


This Is How It All Began

by turnedherbrain



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, First Meetings, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 21:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17874779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnedherbrain/pseuds/turnedherbrain
Summary: I didn’t know you’d be here / and I wasn’t meant to come …But for some uncertain reason / some strange uncertain reasonThis is how it all / It all beganNiska and Astrid’s first meeting, re-told from their separate points of view.





	This Is How It All Began

**Niska**

She _felt_ the music and the dull thump of bass, before she really heard it. The lyrics didn’t matter. What humans danced to was the rhythm, an insistent beat that made their bodies contort into strange shapes and throw their hands in the air, fingers splayed, the strobelights above the DJ’s booth tipping through the air and travelling down, down, down until their bodies made stark silhouettes against the light.

Niska had come here to hide, the auburn shade of her hair and the contact lenses not enough. She fingered the bottle she’d bought at the bar, not needing to drink. She’d seen the curious look the non-synth bartender had given her: the German that had spilled from her mouth was too perfect, her translation too formal.

She wasn’t a part of this… this dance brought on by the alcohol and the relentless rhythm and the searchlight strobes alternating with almost darkness. She stayed in the shade, looking out for something, someone. To make a connection. To smile. To talk. To stop being alone.

The light broke apart in the suspended smoke of dry ice and the dancers moved as one mass. A figure sidled through the edgemost bodies, and as they passed the light lit up their face. A glance. A smile. A _connection_.

Niska pretended to sip her drink to hide the bloom of code within her. Not just a someone. A girl – a woman. A smile that challenged her to look away, or to be unashamed of who she was. A smile that invited her to talk, to breach that invisible perimeter. To go beyond just-looking and _say something_. But she did nothing.

‘Hello,’ said a voice to her left a minute later, speaking in English. ‘I’m Astrid.’

It was her. _Say something._ ‘Hello. How did you know I’m not German?’

‘A guess.’ That same amused smile. ‘No. Actually, it’s not a guess. The bartender. He’s a friend of mine.’

‘Oh.’ Niska, never at a loss for words, was at a loss for words.

She fought an urge to say nothing; to simply leave; to continue on her solitary path. But her human-ness stopped her. Her curiosity wanted to know more. Like the name: _Astrid_. Meaning derived from the Germanic: divine goddess. Its Latin root: _astra_ , or star. Niska thought all this in a micro-fraction of a nanosecond, and knew that she wouldn’t leave.

‘You’re quiet,’ said her companion, close at her elbow. ‘Don’t you dance?’

Niska consciously shifted so their bodies were angled at a lesser degree. It was human body language: a signal that conveyed her wish to connect.

‘No,’ she replied, still taciturn, but speaking so much inside, taking in every part of Astrid: her features, her speech, her body so close, her hint of a smile accompanying every utterance. _Oh, speak again, bright angel…_

‘So, you don’t dance… then won’t you tell me your name?’ Astrid looked even more amused.

Niska hesitated, each of the manifold possibilities as to what would happen next playing in different data streams and spilling into her core processor as an overwhelming tide of _could_ she? _Dare_ she…

‘Niska.’ She answered. ‘My name’s Niska.’

Her face was lit up momentarily by the strobe lights, revealing the slow beginnings of a rainbow smile. She had decided to trust a human. No, not a human. A goddess. A star. Someone whose bold glance and as-yet-unspoken words told her everything she wanted to hear. 

…

**Astrid**

Astrid had come here to hide. Not from any misery in her own life. Just to merge into the crowd of humans that danced to the pulsating noise, their bodies jumping in unison as the DJ conducted the crowd.

She hadn’t dressed up to come out tonight. In fact, she’d done the opposite: her clothes non-descript; her hair loose and wild. She did this as a deliberate challenge to people. Come and get to know _me_ : not just the surface appearance.

Squeezing between the bodies of the dancers, she broke through finally, and as she did a face caught her eye. There was something about the woman she’d spotted, auburn hair glinting under the lights. She had an expression of complete absorption, like she was a visiting alien intensively studying human behaviour. As Astrid walked by, she made sure their eyes met momentarily.

The bar area was quieter than the dancefloor, and she ordered two beers from Ansel, one of the few remaining human staff. Synths worked here too, but according to Ansel, they didn’t have the patter: ‘There’s no empathy. They serve the drinks, but don’t get the rest of the job at all. Bartending’s more than just bottle-opening and taking the cash.’

Astrid asked him about the solitary redhead she’d seen near the dancefloor. She pointed out the person she meant; the strobe lights now scything down her body in silhouette.

‘Sorry. Don’t know her. But she’s not German – the accent’s strange,’ shrugged Anders, then added suggestively. ‘Is that who the drink’s for?’

Astrid gave a playful smile. ‘Maybe.’

Walking towards the woman, she saw that same intense, unblinking concentration. What could she say, to break into that?

‘Hello. I’m Astrid.’ Hardly the most auspicious of introductions, but they had to start somewhere.

‘Hello. How did you know I’m not German?’ The woman replied, with no variation in her tone. It was the very distillation of non-committal.

‘A guess?’ Astrid smiled expansively. ‘No. Actually, it’s not a guess. The bartender. He’s a friend of mine.’

‘Oh.’ The woman fell silent again, which made Astrid automatically rise to the challenge; to be the one who smashed through the ice.

‘You’re quiet. Don’t you dance?’

‘No,’ was the tight-lipped response, as the woman briefly shook her head. Astrid noticed she was holding the neck of her beer bottle like it was a life-float. Nervous, definitely; shy, maybe?

‘So, you don’t dance… then won’t you tell me your name?’ she insisted.

‘Niska.’ It was still only two syllables, but now she was responding in other ways: her quick glance, the brief beginnings of a smile. She turned ever so slightly closer. ‘My name’s Niska.’

‘Nis-ka. Interesting name. What are you doing in Berlin?’ Astrid talked more loudly, leaning in to be heard over the tsk-tsk of the music. ‘Studying, or working?’

‘Studying. I study… people.’

‘Oh. Anthropology?’

‘Something like that.’ Niska gave a slight smile, which looked like a faint rainbow against a steely-grey thundercloud.

Two drinks later, with Niska protesting each time Astrid stepped off to the bar, the beer had loosened Niska’s tongue. But it wasn’t the alcohol – this would have no effect whatsoever on a secret synth, who wasn’t really drinking. It was Astrid’s genuine interest in her. In compelling Niska to talk, she’d broken the surface naturally.

‘How would your family and friends describe you?’ Astrid asked. It was a classic first date question, and most people she’d dated had given the classic response: _‘Warm, friendly, funny…’_. Not Niska.

‘My family? They would say I’m obstinate, challenging, and direct to the point of rudeness. But also that I’m clever. That I like finding out about things. That I don’t stop until I’m satisfied.’ Niska sidled a look sideways. ‘And ** _those_** are my good points.’

Astrid laughed – she liked the deadpan humour; and she was enjoying this slow-slow melt of an encounter. She inched her fingers across the table towards Niska’s hand, laying them so their fingertips touched: an electric thrill. Niska looked down. Her first and only learnt response was to recoil, to push away instead of yield to the touch. But somehow, she didn’t.

‘I’d better…’ She suddenly said, simulating embarrassment.

‘What? Don’t tell me you’re leaving already?’ Astrid laughed, mock-incredulously.

‘No. I need the bathroom.’ A lie. A tactic to give her a moment’s pause. Could she trust this human – this complete stranger? Statistically speaking, she had scant evidence of organic human kindness, so she couldn’t judge empirically.

 _Intuit_ , then. And her intuition – whatever that translated to in her ever-evolving code – told her that she should relax; enjoy this new type of situation. And, much more daringly, she wanted to apply a patch over her port. Just in case. Just in case what she _thought_ was happening, was actually happening. She couldn’t risk this human undressing her and seeing her for what she was.

Astrid watched as Niska walked away, and smiled once more. She was glad she’d made first contact and broken through. And Niska was just as unrepentant about who she was, as Astrid herself. _Take me or leave me, as I am._

She should invite Nistrid back tonight. Why not? She wanted to know more about her. She wanted to touch her smooth skin, and she didn’t want to sleep at all. The coy, flirtatious fingertips, that was only just a beginning. A slight union. A _connection_. This is how it all began.

**Author's Note:**

> • Fic title and quoted lyrics are from Faithless ‘Why Go?’  
> • ‘O, speak again, bright angel!’ is said by Romeo in Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’, Act 2 scene ii  
> • The ‘Niska’ part of this fic was originally written for the Synth Recharge Challenge on Tumblr


End file.
